


Get a Little Treat

by Cranky_Tanky



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, Gags, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Riding Crops, Rung is a dom, Spike and Valve, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Transfluid (Transformers), Vibrators, but like consensually, misfire subs, swerve subs, they may switch it up a little in later chapters idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/pseuds/Cranky_Tanky
Summary: Rung, Swerve, and Misfire take another step in their relationship, and it's a fun one.
Relationships: Misfire/Swerve, Rung/Misfire, Rung/Swerve (Transformers), Rung/Swerve/Misfire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Get a Little Treat

**Author's Note:**

> i wanna do a couple more chapters of this but that's about it! this is just a little pet project if you'll excuse the pun.

“Well, I had no idea.” Rung smiled, his expression unreadable behind his goggles. Misfire squirmed in the booth next to him, with Swerve on Rung’s other side. “Really, Misfire?”

“W-well, you know, it’s --” the Con laughed nervously, bright fuschia in the face as well as the plating, “It’s, um -- this is so embarrassing -- it’s about… your partner… and the way that you and them can just…” Finally, at a total loss for words, Misfire took his hands and squished them together so his fingers interlocked, making a helpless face. “Yeah.”

“It’s about the intimacy?” Swerve offered, and looked like he was about to combust at the seams.

Misfire nodded vigorously and pointed at Swerve, but looked up at Rung, to see if he was getting it.

“I see,” Rung murmured, pinching his chinpiece between his index finger and thumb. Then, he smiled again. “Well, I must say I’m not unfamiliar with dominance and submission, Misfire.”

“Wait, really?” Misfire squeaked, jaw dropping. “You mean like a sub?”

Rung giggled from behind his hand, before taking off his glasses and unsubspacing a cloth to clean them. “Er, not quite. No, I’ve had quite a bit of experience as a Dominant, actually.”

“No kidding!” Misfire laughed once, slouching back in his seat.

“I assume you’ve had experience as a submissive.” Rung said coyly, fingers playing with the energon stirrer in his glass. 

“Oh, you know, s-some,” Misfire said, fishing for approval as he giggled nervously. “Sometimes Krok and Grim and I will get up to some shenanigans, you know how it is.”

“Swerve?” Rung’s head smoothly swiveled to glance at Swerve, who squirmed like he was being prodded with a hot poker. “How about you?”

“Well, I, I, um.” Swerve giggled high-pitched and fast, face bright pink under his sweet blue visor, like a panel of melted sugar. “I’ve had a lot of experience with my hand.” His face turned even darker as his smile dropped. “Wow that came out so sad.”

“On the contrary,” Rung purred, waving it away, and his smile was indescribable. “It’s no worry. What level of scene have you engaged with, Misfire?”

“Um --” Misfire gulped, his spike pushing against his panel. He squirmed like Swerve had been squirming, and envied Rung’s deep, unshakeable coolness. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat and his fans weren’t even on. “Just a little light bondage and some half-ironic Sir kink.”

“Well!” Rung gently clapped, beaming. “Isn’t this lovely! How would you two like to try out a little arrangement?”

“Wait, really?” Swerve blurted, and Misfire broke into a giant beaming smile. This was certainly a serendipitous surprise.

“Wait, what do you get out of it?” the Con asked, putting his elbows on the table and putting his chin in his hands.

“Well,” Rung began, taking a sip of his drink, “I enjoy… the psychological aspect behind it. I enjoy finding my partner’s weak spots and… pressing them, if you will.” He took another sip. “Of course, not in any way that would make someone genuinely uncomfortable -- it’s more… I enjoy how the power I exert can be used to create an extremely fulfilling experience for all involved, utilizing the entire emotional spectrum.”

“Uh...huh…” Misfire hummed, not quite getting it.

“Er --” Rung blushed. “I think that pleasure and positive emotions aren’t the only thing that can be used for emotional fulfillment in a scene -- negative ones have their place too, as long as everything’s within negotiation.”

“Oh! Gotcha. Yeah, I’m fine with that.”

“Wonderful! And, how about you, Swerve?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m okay with that, too.”

“And of course, we’d work out a contract together, if this is something we really want to do.” Rung grabbed Misfire’s hand with one of his, and Swerve’s with the other, squeezing. “For now, Misfire, how do you act in-scene?”

“I don’t really think about it, but…” Misfire laughed, shyly. “A little desperate? Needy, I guess. But not like -- sexually, though I guess that too, but -- but… it’s hard to explain.”

“No worries, I think I understand. And, Swerve?” Rung’s head swiveled to look at Swerve. “I know you’ve never been in a scene, but how do you think you might act?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” Swerve mumbled, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, Doc.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Rung said, and leaned forwards to kiss his helm, smiling. “If you both want to do this, I’ll send you both a form with various activities. If you could indicate your hard and soft limits -- that is, things that you absolutely wouldn’t like to attempt vs. things that you aren’t entirely alright with but wouldn’t be against trying after a check-in -- we can move forward with trying out our first scene. How does that sound?”

  
  


\---------------------------------

  
  


“Mmph!” Misfire called out from behind his bit gag, where he was forcibly kneeling on the floor with his arms tied to the pole behind himself. Rung kept lavishing attention on Swerve, gently touching his short, fat spike and making sure to trail his loving fingers around the ring at the base.

“Wait your turn, pet,” Rung called back to Misfire, and the fuschia bot sobbed through the gag, bowing his head. Why couldn’t he sit still enough to wait? Now he was disappointing his Master. He squirmed in place, spike dripping.

Swerve whined, loudly, and Rung’s footsteps gently came over. A riding crop gently tapped under Misfire’s chin, forcing him to look up -- hunching his shoulders, he tilted his head up, but turned it aside, writhing in discomfort. His spark ached. He couldn’t look Rung in the eye.

“Look at me,” Rung said, firmly. “Pet. Look at me.” Misfire risked a peek at Rung’s blue, blue eyes, and crumpled. But instead of scolding him, Rung just squatted, and petted at Misfire’s cheek, tutting. “You’re so sensitive,” he cooed, voice soft. “Poor thing. You did such a good job waiting for me.” He reached up and unbuckled the gag, gently removing it and letting Misfire work his jaw around to get comfortable again. “Good pet.” Then, Rung brought out an energon treat and pressed it to Misfire’s lips.

The fuschia bot turned his head to the side, sealing his lips up tight as his sparkache only got worse. He didn’t deserve that treat, he hadn’t been Perfect.

The riding crop snapped smartly against his cheek, and he jumped, yelping.

“Who is in charge here?” Rung asked, curt and businesslike. Misfire felt tears well again.

“You, Master,” he murmured, head hanging. Rung just put fingers under his chin and pushed it right back up again. He was never allowed to hang his head. Part of him was grateful -- it was the fastest way to retreat back into his own head, and Rung never let him do it.

“Yes, me.” Rung pushed the candy against his lips again. “And I’ve decided you deserve a reward for waiting. Are you telling me you know better?”

“I didn’t do a good job, though,” Misfire whispered, still trying to strain away from the treat so Rung wouldn’t just put it in his mouth, even though he didn’t think Rung would. “You had to yell at me.”

“We all need reminders every now and again,” Rung said, gently. “I think you did very well, pet.” His voice hardened into pure, tender authority again, like pure nectar in Misfire’s lines. “Take your reward.”

Misfire gently leaned forwards and tenderly, softly took the rounded treat in his teeth, removing it from Rung’s fingers. Rung beamed proudly, and scratched at the back of Misfire’s neck, rubbing after he scritched. “Such a soft mouth. You’re so sweet, pet. Yes, so sweet.” He hummed in a sultry tone, hand dipping lower and lower until he was rubbing at Misfire’s dripping, aching spike, nimble fingers pressing and stimulating nodes like his fingers were designed for pleasure. Misfire let his mouth hang open and moaned, sang for his Master unabashedly, spike twitching.

Then Rung smirked, chuckled, and brought out a bullet vibrator, and Misfire knew he was about to experience some of the sweetest torture he’d had in ages. The vibrator buzzed to life and Rung skimmed it up and down the bottom of Misfire’s spike, playing with the head. He drew it up and down, up and down, played little circles on the underside of the head, and then up and down, almost attempting to coax the transfluid out of him early. Misfire squirmed and whimpered and panted, eyes flickering, and he swore his tongue was hanging out as he panted. His vents flared to dump even more hot air, fans screaming in his ears, and he bucked his hips desperately, feeling Rung’s gentle hand pet his side. The vibrator’s touch was just light enough that he couldn’t cum, keeping him hanging on that precipice by his fingertips. He couldn’t even muster the brainpower to form the word “please,” and just let out a long, high, needy whine.

“Beautiful,” Rung murmured, swirling the tip of the vibrator on the underside of Misfire’s spike, stimulating oversensitive nodes. Misfire had rocketed straight past “i’m  _ going  _ to cum,” bullet trained right on through, “I  _ need  _ to cum,” and had landed straight into, “i’m so overstimulated i  _ can’t  _ cum.” Rung kept speaking, voice soft and low. “You sing so pretty for me.”

It was  _ exquisite. _ Never had he thought that someone could edge him by  _ continuing  _ to apply maintained stimulation. He just threw his head back and whimpered, whined, moaned, whatever Rung wanted to hear. He could feel prefluid dribbling from his spike in throbbing pulses, and his spike ached, screamed for release. “P-please,” he managed, choked up at first. “Please!”

“Please what, pet?” Rung asked, innocently, running that vibrator up and down again, lightly, barely there.

“Please make me cum!” Misfire squealed, bucking into the friction. Rung just pulled the vibrator away, enough that he couldn’t get it, tsking. “Please,” Misfire sobbed, tears actually welling. “Please it hurts so good…”

“Poor pet,” the orange bot cooed. “Swerve?” He asked, looking over his shoulder. “What do you think, dear?”

“I’d wanna see it,” Swerve offered, panting on the toy he was riding. His hands were cuffed behind his back, his spike flushed fuschia and throbbing under the ring at the base.

“Oh, alright,” Rung said, mischievously. “Since we’re all in agreement.” And suddenly he was pressing that vibrator down and running it up and down Misfire’s spike again but he was pushing it, pressing it in, rubbing it hard and fast over sensitive nodes. Misfire squealed and writhed, simultaneously overstimulated and desperately needing more. Rung ripped his overload from his spike by the very roots, all the while keeping a measured and firm pace with his weapon of choice. Misfire screamed as his spike twitched and gushed transfluid, pearlescent pink shooting from his spike in a spurt that felt hard enough to punch a hole in the wall. Rung just kept that vibe on him, rubbing it in circles just under the head, humming softly in approval. He kept it up until Misfire was moaning gutturally and his spike was softening of its own accord, still twitching and jumping and drooling.

“Well,” Rung said, pleased with himself as he finally turned off the vibrator. He unhooked Misfire, and gave him another treat, praising him and bringing him over to lay down to watch while he tended to Swerve. “Good pet, very good pet. We’ll clean that up later, won’t we? Now, let’s make sure Swerve isn’t left out…”


End file.
